Reviste

Delight – the bum I cherish, once more, as in the past,You are proffering to me like some delicious treat. As you raise up your skirt high, and lean into the street, Out of the open window, while munching on a crust. And since you're sort of bashful at what I'm

To an Eminescian blonde Would that your ass split in two comely spheres,Would that your cunt cleft in four luscious lips –A chariot made of silk are you, and sheer,Wheels dipped in fragrant oil from tip to tip.  Your mug be cast behind the sugar barsOf your gold hair

Many of the young writers or aspirants to literature consider eroticism as a sure way to quick recognition. This type of literature is quite difficult to write, because between eroticism, pornography and a public toilet the differences are minimal, but essential, and unless

In the cited cases, apart from the banality of sex, apart from the huge alcoholic-narcotic papier-mâché setting, apart from cussing and vomit, there seem to be no more 'facts of life'. This is where evil lies. There lies literary naught. Idei în dialog, February

Today, writers no longer bring up sex to shock bourgeois taste, as avant-garde authors used to a hundred years ago. Sex is regarded as a natural, even banal, thing, a fact of life like any other. Dilema veche, December 2004 by Cezar Paul-Bădescu

Screams I'd have given, ecstaticif I had looked with you, through you,these tattered waters, these stone chimeras;my childhood would've spurted through my skinlike scarlet fever,my thighs would've been stained with bloodas on the wedding night.  Screams I'd

It is amazing how many children are begotten from the sentimental exultation that one or the other of their parents feel for a third person, another than the partner in the respective action, irrespective if the person in question be a man or a woman. Sometimes this third

excerpts 155th of March 1946I wasn't planning on writing to you. I thought I was going to write Physics papers. But the paper was white and I kept thinking about you. I was thinking of you and I felt happy. This flatters me. And saddens me at the same time. I thought

Chapter VIII: The party on the 24th of August. Gaby and the other Sandu. Dyed. Pusha and Hippodrome. Gaby and the evil. The movie on TV. Stupid jokes. On the phone with Pusha. A letter. Fight and reconciliation with HippoLet's go back to 1963, a time in which Monica

excerpt He continued to walk towards the former Senate Square, his hand pressed against his jaw, still paralyzed from the aggression of the figurant, and the bizarre appearance of his General in that particular place. One blow after another. It was too much… It was indeed

Every summer the city on the hill is drowned in green, which explodes in the church park, at the Citadel and at the Cabin and the Grove, while the green willows of the River girdle the city. The summer of fir trees and willows flaps big, unseen wings in a fervor of lofty

excerpt Paul Dunca found himself asking not what has become of the baron, which would have been an equally ludicrous question, but at least still possible at the time, but:How is the baron?The girl burst into a loud laughter and that was her only answer, and Paul Dunca understood